


You without hesitation

by Hattingmad



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Cinderella Phenomenon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattingmad/pseuds/Hattingmad
Summary: The wolf lied.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Fritz's route, obviously.  
> Call this fix-it murderfic, or the Varg Protection Squad, as you will. 
> 
> Let me know if I should continue this madness or just shoot myself and get it over with.

In case you were wondering, death is dark.

 

Dark and boring.

 

Oh, wait. My mistake. That's just what Fritz's mind feels like, though you'd be forgiven for mixing the two up. Dull as tarnished brass, this one.

 

I did try to disappear. Really, I did. Made the tragic, heroic self-sacrifice and everything. All so the girl I...the girl we _both_ loved...could get her very own fairy-tale ending. No room for villains in happily ever after; the fairy tales made that clear enough. I knew the rules. But I just couldn't quite go. Somehow I wound up back here, buried in a box in Fritz's subconscious mind, so deep he doesn't even notice.

 

I guess I lied. I'm the big bad wolf. So sue me. I was  _trying_ to be good, there at the end. I never said I was. I guess part of me just didn't trust the twit to actually take care of our princess. What I said was true, back then. He doesn't deserve her. Never did. But I thought he could make her happy. Happier than me, anyway. Happier than a shadow.

 

So why does she seem so sad?

 

Based on the changing of seasons, months must have passed since...everything, and yet, their relationship, such as it is, has barely progressed. Fritz, the coward, still terrified to hold her hand, and our ice princess, withdrawn and unsure, incapable of moving forward without him.

 

Tonight, I watch him follow her as she sneaks out of the palace to visit the graves, that solitary row honoring the dead. And then he hides behind a tree as she moves further into the forest, brushing aside deliberately placed foliage to reveal...another small marker, less formal than the others, but carefully tended. She places fresh flowers atop it, and I wonder if she made this with her own two hands. She murmurs, so quietly his ears can barely hear her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. You deserve to be remembered... Varg."

The realization hits him like a lightning bolt, and even I feel myself stir. She made a grave...for me? She mourns me? Dare I hope that she grieves, even a little, for her poor lovelorn wolf?

I snort at myself and my own ridiculous train of thought. It's hardly likely, given her reaction to me in life. But then, there was a moment when I kissed her--the moment that keeps me sane, the one I relive over and over as I wait for oblivion to claim me--where I could swear that her lips parted, ever so slightly, and her body swayed toward mine, almost involuntarily...

 

As I indulge for perhaps the millionth time in my remembrances, I'm dimly aware of the sound of steel on steel, of Fritz's body as it fights for breath, and space. What is he battling out there? Was there an attack on the princess? His mind is locked down so tightly I can't even see through his eyes.

That idiot. I'm a better fighter than he ever was. He's going to get himself killed, one day, and then where will she be?

Even as the thought occurs to me, alarm bells are going off all around my tiny corner of not-life. I'm losing my sense of him. Everything is going dark around me, his body pressing in on me like a dead weight. I don't--he can't be--

As though through a fog, her voice echoes around me. She's trying to summon him to her side, the little fool, with that word he taught her so long ago. As though a queen's command, or a lover's plea, could conquer death.

And yet, even though I know it's useless, hopeless, I thrash against the confines of my mental prison, struggling to reach her. Don't cry, not for him...not for...

* * *

 

Hell feels like a bed, apparently. It's a bit anticlimactic, really. I was thinking that, for my sins, I'd be suffering eternally next to the queen bitch herself, or at least Myth, the monster who made me.

Is the plan to bore me into insanity? Because really, after suffering through Fritz's incessant and inane thoughts over the past several months, I--

Wait. Fritz.

I sit up with a gasp, remembering, and my movement stirs the figure at the foot of the bed, dress rumpled from a fitful sleep. She opens her eyes, and I can see the confusion written plainly there, an expression that surely mirrors my own. How is she here? How am I not dead, right along with her fool of a knight? How am I in control of this body?

But none of that matters, not when I can see her, talk to her, touch her. I muster up a ghost of a smile, reaching a trembling hand to smooth my hair--and it is _my_ hair, I notice, baffling me further.

My voice comes out as a rasp, but still, I manage, "miss me, princess?" before the blackness swallows me once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the hunter away, the wolf will play.

The next time I open my eyes, it's dark outside. Either that, or I've gone blind, but since the princess is still sitting by my bed, staring daggers at a candle on a bedside table like it's a subject for interrogation, I don't think it's the latter. Doubtless, she's been waiting here for her Fritz to return, growing more and more impatient as my body refuses to become his.

"How long--" I start to ask, and she cuts me off, her tone stiff and clipped, just like I remember.

"A day. Two." She waves a hand, dismissive. "It doesn't matter. Is he--?"

My eyes lower to the bedsheets. I understand the question just fine. She's just not going to like the answer. But she isn't one to shy away from the truth, our princess. I meet her eyes and shake my head.

"I can't feel him. But even if I could..." I try to gentle my voice a little, for her, but I think I'm just making her more angry with me. "He took a mortal wound, princess. Say he is in here, resting." I tap my forehead. "If he returned to you, he'd die anyway. Immediately. Without magic, there's no healer or doctor on earth who could help. I'm sorry."

"If there's no more magic, how are you still here? All the curses were broken when the Lucis and Tenebrarum... your continued existence is impossible," she declares flatly.

I raise an eyebrow at her, considering.

"But princess, I thought I was merely a part of your knight, not a separate individual? And, that being the case, your rabbit-hearted love is still here." I muster up a wolfish grin, spreading my arms wide.

"So come to me, darling. No need for tears. True, my appearance may have changed somewhat--dare I say it, for the better--but I am still," and here, I do my best Fritz impression, pitching my voice to imitate his simpering tones, "your loyal servant, and devoted knight."

I watch the briefest flicker of hope light her eyes, and I regret the cruelty, before her brilliant mind kicks in, and she gives me a look of such ferocity I'm almost impressed.

"No," she chokes out, practically growling at me. " There's nothing of him in you."

And, despite the harshness of her words, I have cause to smile, though I don't let it show on my face. Because if she made it that far, then the inevitable conclusion won't be far behind...

"You were never the curse," she breathes. "It only let you out. You were there all along. Weren't you."

And there it is. She doesn't even bother making it a question, and I'm so proud of her.

"I don't know about all along," I say, slowly, "but I obviously can't remember a time before I was here, so..." I shrug, helpless for once.

"I didn't know," she says, almost angry about it.

"You weren't supposed to." I roll my eyes. "He thought it would be easier--safer--if you didn't." I pause, letting her take it in, before continuing.

"I don't know exactly what happened to him, but I can guess."

She looks at me, sharp and alarmed.

"Without its magic to protect it, the kingdom is now vulnerable to other rulers who find its natural resources and thriving economy...appetizing. And the best way to create chaos and destabilize the country would be to take out its ruler."

I can tell I hit the mark by the way her eyes tighten at the corners.

"You still need a knight, princess," I remind her, and she immediately snaps at me.

"No! Absolutely not. I refuse to---there will be no more death on my hands." She means it, too.

"You know I'll find and follow you anyway," I point out dryly. "The--ahem--big bad wolf can sniff you out anywhere."

I grin, as it's a point of pride for me.

I'm not expecting the reaction that statement gets out of her, though. Her cheeks turn a bright rosy red, the flush spreading down to her neck and up to her ears, and she says, accusingly, "that's disgusting!"

It takes me a moment to cotton on to her train of thought, but when I do--

"Why, princess," I drawl, dark and slow and smooth like rich melted chocolate, "I didn't know you thought of me that way. But I'm certain," and here I make sure to catch her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes as I crawl toward her on the bed, though she's trying desperately not to look at me, "that you are absolutely _delicious_. In fact," I go on, biting my lower lip, "I _know_ you are. Don't you remember?"

I'm so close now I could touch her, and I dare, oh, I dare, brushing her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb.

She's frozen, unmoving, and I lean closer, to whisper in her ear with hot breath, "I could remind you..."

She's caught in my gaze, caught and held fast, and I can feel the tremor in her, and I know with utter certainty that it isn't fear or revulsion causing her to shake so, that it isn't just my arrogance deluding me. I affect her!

I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet, sweet scent of her, savoring it-- only to be shoved backward, hard.

"That won't be necessary," she states, louder than necessary, and even though she's running out the door, I'm too elated to care, only managing to call after her, just before the door slams shut,

"I'm glad it was memorable for you, too~~"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I slipped and wrote more Varg.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolf has caught the scent, ladies and gents.

I doubt I need to tell you how vehemently she argues against my taking up as her protector.

I also doubt I need to tell you that I win, in the end. Even without magic, my stick still wallops a man powerful-hard. And besides, mostly, magic is just tricks and illusions--and I'm very, very good at those. I borrow from stagehands--a smoke bomb here, flash paper there to start an unnatural fire, and it isn't long before I garner a reputation as an excellent bodyguard for our ice princess.

Barging into her room in the middle of the night to dispatch another assassin doesn't hurt my case, either.

 

She feels extremely violated, having me paw through her things like this, and even more so that I refuse to let her in the room with me, but I'm taking no chances. Anything could be poisoned; anything could be a threat.

I growl in frustration, hardly able to believe the idiocy of the other palace guards. Did they never think to do this? Did my idiot alter never think to sweep her room? What if one of her dolls was tampered with? Some cretin could have put a sleeping beauty curse on her at any time in years past, with none the wiser!

"Don't you dare open that drawer, Varg!" She shrills at me from the doorway, and I tut at her.

"This isn't how I'd prefer to be acquainted with your unmentionables, either, trust me. My dreams were of a scenario far more... _stimulating,_ but alas, we are both disappointed. Now hush and let me do my job."

My fingers part the gauzy fabric, searching. If my instincts don't fail me, something is here.

"Aha!"

A hidden drawer clicks open at my touch, and the princess begins to make noise again.

"If you look, so help me, I will never speak to you again!"

But it's too late for such threats. I'm already pulling the offending object out by my fingertips.

It's...a tome?

I blink in surprise at the image on the cover, that of a rogue unlacing a swooning maiden's bodice.

The title then catches my eye:

_The Lusty Lord and his Captive Mistress. Passion's Delight, Volume the Third._

Dear gods above, it's a naughty book! And the third in a series, no less! I knew my princess had untapped fires beneath her frigid façade, but _this_...

"It isn't even mine! Emmaline must have left it here," The princess protests, weakly. Obviously, she thinks she needs to say something.

"Truly? Then why, pray tell, was it hidden amongst your underthings?" I school my expression to keep from grinning outright. "Well, never mind. Your room is safe, for the moment. You may return to bed."

"And what will you be doing?" She turns to look at me, somehow managing to avoid my gaze in the process, resolutely staring at a spot above my right eyebrow.

"Why, standing guard outside your door, of course." I take up a position and fold my arms. "Worry not. With such fascinating reading material, I assure you, I shan't be bored."

The door slams behind her, and I think I hear her throwing things in a fit of pique inside her chamber.

She also appears to be muttering about burning all her underwear.

I laugh into my fist.

"Pleasant dreams, my--" I flip through the book for a suitable sobriquet, "-- _fetching flower_ ~"

The sound of shattering glass is my only answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many ideas, not enough time. Maybe I should open a commissions tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and a wonderful thing to change~

The book proved to be very educational reading indeed, and it has since had me thinking... perhaps our dear princess needs to be _pushed._ And I'm certainly happy to call her bluff.

 

We're walking in the garden when I finally ask.

 

"Why not put Emmaline and Rod on the throne? They could handle it together."

 

Our prickly princess immediately trains a glare on me that would have another man quaking in his boots. I just shrug, my hands in my pockets, like I've made a casual observation and not something that would reshape her entire life.

 

"What are you saying? I've been trained my whole life to be queen. It's my responsibility. It's--who I am supposed to be."

 

"Is it? Or is that your mother talking? Did you ever really want to be queen?" Again, my tone is mild, my words--for once--with no sting to them whatsoever, only simple curiosity.

 

She huffs.

 

"That's irrelevant. I don't get a choice in the matter. That's what it means to be royal."

 

I make a noise that could be taken as agreement or dissent, or acknowledgment. It's a very vague noise, on purpose.

 

"But if you could choose...?"

 

She doesn't look at me, and she doesn't answer. And that's enough for me to keep pressing.

 

"I think, princess, that you wanted to be _happy."_

 

She isn't sure what to say, now, and she's trying to find something, anything, that will wound, that will get me to back off this topic. But it's going so well, I just can't do that yet.

 

"How could I ever be happy now that Fritz is--" I don't even let her finish that one.

 

"Tch. You and I both know that isn't true. If that's the way you truly feel, why haven't you flung yourself off the nearest tower yet?"

 

"I would never stoop so low." She draws herself to her full height, indignation etched in every feature. I yawn theatrically.

 

"Spare me the dramatics. They don't suit you."

 

And her mouth snap shut, so stunned is she.

 

I pause, thinking about it.

 

"Just how far _did_ you go with dear Fritzy-witzy, anyway? Did you two even kiss?"

 

"None of your business!" She snaps at me, instantly.

 

"So, that's a no, then." I can't quite keep the dismay off my face. She sees it, and huffs out,

 

"It is NOT. We did!"

 

"Really? More than once?" I hold up a single finger, cocking my head at her, playful.

 

"Stop it! Stop talking about... _that!"_   She's furious and spiky, and her face is a telltale red.

 

I sigh, pitying her, and pinch the bridge of my nose.

 

"Oh, gods, only _once_? Poor princess. I'll wager he didn't even use tongue."

 

"Tongue?" She yelps, and then shakes her head, horrified at her own question. "No, never mind, I'm not talking about this with you!"

 

"Yes, tongue," I say patiently, and lick my lips with my own, watching as her gaze is drawn slowly but inexorably to the motion. And then, borrowing a bit from that tome I read, "what I wouldn't give to put mine on you, princess." I give her my very best smolder.

 

A strange look comes over her face then, and I know she's thinking about it. 

 

Eventually, she holds her chin high, challenging.

"What would you, then? Give, I mean. To do that."

She doesn't even stutter, and I have to say, I'm impressed. What a bold question. She's brave, but then, I always knew that.

 

"My life," I say. "I know you resent me for taking the place of your knight. I know you want to hurt me, punish me for it. You can't stand the sight of me, most days. You want me to disappear."

 

"That's not-" She starts to protest, but I hold up a hand, asking her to let me finish.

 

"Well. Let me touch you, just once, as you deserve to be touched, and then... you can kill me. Slit my throat, if you like. I can even lend you the dagger."

 

I offer her mine, hilt facing her, and she stares at me like she can't understand what she's seeing or hearing.

 

"You won't return my feelings," I tell her, "but I could go to my grave happy, having done this."

 

I know she won't go through with it, of course. She isn't the type, despite how she may behave. And she certainly isn't her mother. If I read this right, if I took the right cues from her illicit nighttime reading material...

 

 

She's silent for a long, long time, and I think I may have pushed her too far, when she finally says,

 

"Fine. I accept your terms."

 

"You won't regret it. I swear."  I nod to her, and turn to walk away, already making plans.

 

"You-- aren't going to do it now?" She sounds bewildered, and, dare I say it, a touch disappointed.

 

"Of course not," I say, shaking my head. "Now is neither the time nor place. You'll simply have to look forward to it."

 

I whistle as I leave, a jaunty little ditty. Oh, this is going to be _fun._


	5. Chapter 5

I admit, I enjoy making her wait more than could be considered healthy. I enjoy her reactions to it even more. Her growing frustration every time I lean in close, only to back away at the last moment, or start to reach out to her, only to keep my hand an inch from her face...ah, it's truly music to my eyes and ears.

I don't stop the shameless flirting, naturally; only now, it's laced with subtle innuendo that I know she understands.

Her irritation and impatience builds, and I know there's nothing more I need to but wait for her to snap, and come to me.

 

And then, one evening, she knocks on the door to my quarters.

* * *

"It's unlocked," I tell her, and she pushes the door open, already launching into a tirade about my 'behavior' and how 'inappropriate' I'm being. And then the door clicks shut behind her, and her eyes finally take me in.

 

I'm laying on my bed, an arm behind my head, one knee bent, wearing nothing but a loose pair of breeches with the front laces loosened. My other hand rests atop the flat planes of my stomach, and I know the candlelight paints me to my best advantage, just as my hand's placement draws her eyes down to the bulge in said breeches.

 

"Why, princess," I say, huskily, "I'm afraid you've caught me at a bad time. I was attending to," and here I hook my thumb under the top of the pants, " _personal matters."_

Alright, so I wasn't actually doing what she thinks; at least, I wasn't right this second. But she doesn't need to know that.

 

She swallows, her eyes darkening with interest, but she tries to rally.

 

"Varg, that's...that's disgus-"

 

"It's perfectly natural, darling. Even you've done it, I'm sure. But why _are_ you here so late, hmm?"

 

"Just...this is stupid! Just get it over with already!" She's yelling now, looking anywhere but at me, high spots of color on her cheeks.

 

"Oh, no. I wish to savor you, like a fine wine, princess. Though I may be ravenous, I want to devour you slowly."

 

"Fine! Then I'll--"

And she stomps over to the bed, bends over, and clumsily, angrily, mashes her lips against mine, almost immediately attempting to pull away.

 

"There! Now it's done, and I can--"

 

I catch her by the waist, pulling her onto the bed with me.

 

"Oh, no, no, no. I can't let that go uncontested. You think _that_ was a kiss?" I sigh, and tilt her chin toward me with one hand.

"Sweetness, _this,_ is a kiss."

 

And with that, I begin to make love to her mouth. Gently at first, pressing soft kisses to the corners of her lips, lightly nibbling, darting out to touch the seam of her sealed lips with my tongue, stroking soothing circles on her back until her tension melts away, and she finally surrenders, opening for me. True to my name and my nature, I swoop in, plundering the precious depths, coaxing her tongue to twine with mine, sharing my breath with her, stoking the flame I know burns within her. She's untutored, but a quick learner, and before long she's gripping my hair and chasing my mouth when I try to break away.

 

"Princess, princess," I murmur, reverent, and she softly corrects me.

 

"My name, Varg. Use my name." She's dazed and breathless and I hardly know what to do with myself at that request.

 

"Lucette," I whisper, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

 

"Lucette," I repeat, laving at the shell of her ear.

 

"My love," I choke out, as her hands wander down my bare chest in reciprocation, leaving unthinking lust-fueled madness in their wake.

 

She's touching me, Christ, she's touching me like she wants me, and she's the sweetest thing I've ever, _ever..._

 

Her fingers dip below my navel, and I'm pulled from my euphoria, mood instantly soured by who I am, and who she is, and the terms of our agreement. I pull myself together and catch her hand before it can reach its destination.

 

"Stop, darling. You've done enough."

 

She looks at me, hurt and confused, and I ache to embrace her again.

 

"Don't you want me?"

 

"More than anything, but... do this with a man you love. Not a mangy wolf because of a bet, because of your pride. Please."

 

I roll away from her, standing up and lacing my breeches with shaking hands. I grab a shirt off the back of my chair and throw it over my head.

 

"Don't make this mistake with me."

 

I won't take advantage of her, not now, not ever, and I reach for the knife sitting under my pillow, handing it to her once again.

 

"Will you not end me, princess? Leave me with the memory of your lips on mine?"

I try to smile for her, even as I realize that I want her to. "I want my death to come at your hands, if that will atone for all my sins against you. And after having you, holding you, tasting you, I can't go back to simply being the bad dream who follows you around, reminding you of things you'd rather forget."

 

She won't take the knife, just staring at me with those wide beautiful eyes, and I nod, understanding. It's fair, for her not to grant me that.

 

"Alright. You can keep your hands clean. I'll do it for you. My final gift to you, my love."

 

And I turn the blade toward myself, angling it up under my ribs.

 

"If I have the strength for one clean push, perhaps it will be a quick death. Goodbyeooooooofff!"

 

My parting words are somewhat hindered by the princess tackling me, knocking the knife out of my hand and pinning me down with her warm weight.

 

"You noble IDIOT," she huffs, clinging to me. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare go anywhere! I wouldn't _be_ here if I didn't..."

 

"Because I'm him?" I ask quietly, not daring to believe anything other than that she's convinced herself to take what she can get, whatever is left of her beloved knight. Which, in this case, is me.

 

She's quiet for a long time, and I think I have her pegged, but before I can prise her fingers from me, she says, muffled into my shoulder,

"...you saw me. Always. More than I wanted you to. More than anyone else. Even--even him. You _knew_ me, and I _hated_ that, and I--but that's why."

 

"That's why what, darling?" I ask, treading oh-so-careful now.

 

"That's why it has to be you. You knew who I was, even the parts of me that were _awful,_ and you _still..._ My father said once. It was the only love advice he ever gave. He said, 'Lucette, you'll know he's the one when he knows who you are, and wants you anyway. That's how I knew.' I didn't understand. Later, I thought he meant, because of who my mother was, or because I was the princess. But... now I know. So, you see, it really does have to be you. So don't you dare die! Not when I--" And she mumbles something very quietly.

 

"What was that, love? I couldn't hear you."

 

"---ove you."

 

"I'm sorry, one more time?" I can't help but tease, even at a time like this, and she responds by biting me, the little minx. I gasp and laugh.

 

"Careful, darling, or I'll bite back."

 

"I'm counting on it," she says.

 

"Now what was it you were saying, hmm? Try to shout, for the cheap seats."

 

"I said, I love you, you stupid irritating imbecilic consternation of a man!" She shoves at my chest, beating at me with her little fists, and I grin up at her.

 

"Well that's a relief. I'm glad I didn't have to use the trick knife after all."

 

"WHAT?? You mean you weren't going to die?" The hitting increases in speed. 

 

"I was planning to fake my own death. There was a second part to the plan where I haunt you sexily and everything. And then you're all 'Varg, what a terrible, tragic mistake I have made, woe is me', and then I come back to life with the power of your love."

 

"Oh, gods, just stop talking," she groans, but she's giggling, at least a little.

 

"What? I thought it was a good plan!" 

 

"Ugh.  _Why_ did it have to be you?" 

 

I just kiss her in reply, and she makes a surprised noise against my mouth.

 

"What? You told me to stop talking!"

 

"Mm~"

 

And as she shows me exactly why she wanted me to hush, I think, I wouldn't have her any other way.

 

 

 


End file.
